


Hold the Fort

by soongtypeprincess



Series: Married Coppers [9]
Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Adorable, Alternate Universe - Parents, Cute, Fluff, Gay Parents, Gen, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 17:26:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14477622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soongtypeprincess/pseuds/soongtypeprincess
Summary: Ruthie has a tummy ache. :(





	Hold the Fort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/gifts).



> This is a gift for Dana...just cuz. :D
> 
> I DO NOT OWN THE CANON LIFE ON MARS CHARACTERS!!

Sam walked through the front door of their house. “I’m home,” he announced to the empty sitting room.

He wasn’t too surprised to see it empty. Ruthie was probably resting in bed and Gene was no doubt taking advantage of that and having a bit of a kip himself.

Gene had awoken last night to their six year-old tugging the sleeve of his pajama shirt. He sniffed and ran a hand over his face before looking at the clock to see that it was close to midnight. He found Ruthie in her blue nightgown and a stale smell was coming from her.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he muttered.

“Papa...I got sick in my bed,” she said in a soft voice through tears.

Gene instantly sat up. “Oh, no, love,” he whispered, sliding off the mattress and kneeling in front of her.

“I got it on me, too,” she whimpered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, baby,” Gene said, pushing her hair away from her face. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

He took her hand and led her to their washroom where he turned on the light and then started the tap on the bathtub. He tested the water until it was just the right temperature and set the plug in the drain. Gene retrieved a towel from the cupboard under the sink and then proceeded to help her out of her soiled nightgown.

Sam had heard the water running and woke up and stood in the doorway of the lav. “What’s going on?” he said in the middle of a yawn.

“Ruthie got sick in her bed,” Gene replied, tying her hair back with a band.

“Oh, sweetpea, I'm sorry,” Sam said, stroking her hair.

Ruthie sniffed back more tears and nodded, looking up at her daddy with bright blue eyes.

“I’ll strip off the bedclothes and throw them in the wash,” Sam told Gene.

“Thanks, love,” Gene said, and handed him her nightgown. “Throw that in there, as well.”

It wasn’t much sick; just a small amount in the middle of the bed, hidden by the duvet as if Ruthie had been embarrassed to do that in her big-girl bed they bought for her when she turned two.

By 1:00am, Ruthie had been cleaned up and the sheets were in the machine in the basement.

“Do I have to sleep on my bed again?” Ruthie asked.

“Of course not, my girl,” Sam said. “You can sleep in our bed tonight.”

After she had finally gotten comfortable, she suddenly shot out of bed and ran into their bathroom, vomiting once more.

“Oh, no,” Gene groaned propping himself on his elbows.

“Our girl is ill, Guv,” Sam pointed out.

“Yes, I’ve noticed.”

“Not now, Gene.”

“Well, I--” Gene stopped himself and rubbed his face. “I don’t like to hear her be ill. Breaks me heart.”

Sam got out of bed again. “I’ll get her.”

After a glass of cold water, Ruthie complained of a tummy ache before finally falling asleep.

“I’ll stay home with her,” Gene said the next morning as he watched Sam comb his hair in the bathroom mirror. “Maybe we can switch mid-day?”

“Sounds good,” Sam muttered. “Promise me you’ll call a doctor if she keeps vomiting.”

“I don’t need to promise that.”

“She’s got a fever of 38, Guv,” Sam pointed out, “and it could get higher.”

“I will check her temperature periodically, Sammy.”

“You’ll call me if you have to take her to A&E?”

Gene rolled his eyes. “No, Gladys. If our daughter gets taken to hospital, I’m not going to let you know. At all. Ever.

Sam didn’t feel like listening to his husband’s sarcasm. He kissed Ruthie goodbye as she still slept in their bed and didn’t even glance at Gene when he left.

Now, he was home where he and Gene were going to switch shifts. He climbed the stairs to Ruthie’s room to check on her and found her door open and the light dimmed. Sam couldn’t stop the smile that spread on his face at what he discovered.

Her purple blanket was draped across two of their dining room chairs, their backs facing one another but far enough apart to form a roof out the of the blanket. The back of the blanket was draped over her dollhouse, that was as tall as she was, and the throw pillows from the sofa as well as the ones from Ruthie’s bed were placed in front of the makeshift fort to form a barrier.

Bertram was sitting in front of this barricade, on watch.

Sam stepped closer and looked inside the fort, and found Ruthie and Gene fast asleep, both of them still in their pajamas, each with their heads on the big pillows from the master bedroom. Ruthie was on her stomach while Gene lay on his side, snoring softly as his hand rested on Ruthie’s back.

Sam didn’t have the heart to wake them and he turned away and closed the bedroom door before going into the kitchen to have lunch. Before leaving, he left a note on the kitchen table:

    _“Gene,_

_Don’t worry about coming in. Stay home and ‘hold the fort’ with our girl._

_Love, Sammy_

_PS: Bertram caught me and wrote a citation. Think you can clear it for me?”_

Later that evening, Sam opened the door to their home once more and was welcomed with the smell of warm broth. “I’m home,” he announced.

“Hi, Daddy,” came Ruthie’s voice from the sitting room.

He saw that she was lying on her back on the sofa, her clean duvet draped over her and she held Bertram to her chest. She was watching _Chigley_ on the television and looked tired.

“Hi, baby girl,” Sam said, sitting on the edge of the sofa. He gently set the back of his fingers against her forehead. “You still feel pretty warm. Did you get sick again?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“That’s good. Have you eaten today?”

“A little.”

“Does your tummy still hurt?”

Yeah, but I promise to eat more at supper. Papa’s making soup.”

Sam’s eyes widened and he smiled. “Papa’s...cooking?”

“You know I can cook, Tyler,” came Gene’s voice from the kitchen.

Sam kissed Ruthie’s forehead before walking to the kitchen to find Gene standing over the stove, stirring into a big stockpot. He had a kitchen towel over his shoulder and he wiped his hands on it as he stepped over to Sam. “Still cross?”

Sam smirked and shook his head. “No,” he said, “I’m sorry about this morning. I was just--”

“Shut up,” Gene ordered and pulled him to his lips.

He grinned slightly when he heard Sam’s soft moan as he leaned further into him.

They pulled away from one another and Gene smiled, kissing his forehead before turning back to his cooking.

“That’s smells wonderful,” Sam said.

“Potato and leek soup,” Gene declared. “Me mum’s recipe. She would make it for us when we got sick. Always helped our tummies.” He added a bit more salt and stirred again. “I will admit, though...I did call her to get some help with it.”

Sam giggled. “Did she also help you with the fort upstairs?”

Gene glanced at him. “Nah, that was Stu.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Stu used to make one all the time for us. We’d spend hours in it. When one of us was ill, we’d lie in it, reading comic books or listening to the radio. Even when our old man was on a bender.” He paused and set down his spoon. “Mind you, Dad never came into our room anyway. Don’t know why. The fort was like our haven. Stu put a sheet at the opening so it would become a tent...I should do that for Ruthie is she ever wants privacy.”

“Guv,” Sam said, approaching the cooker.

Gene smirked. “I’m rambling, aren’t I? I tend to do that about Stu lately, yeah?”

“It’s okay. You can talk about him.”

Gene sighed. “Later. Because our little one wants soup, so the Gene Genie is delivering.”

“Nice change, too,” Sam told him. “You're rarely a cook.”

“Perhaps because I married a good one.”

They both laughed and Sam kissed him again. “Anything I can do?”

“You can go watch _Chigley_ with the Mouse. You seem to enjoy those puppets as much she does.”

Sam bit his lip and nodded and started to walk out of the kitchen, but Gene called for him again. “Oh, Sammy?”

“Yeah, Guv?”

“I’m afraid that citation Bertie gave you stands,” Gene joked. “Community service, it is. I tried, Sam, but he’s only doing his job.”

“I’ll fold the laundry tonight, then. Will that do?”

“Quite, and take the trash out to the bin.”

Sam huffed. “Funny...that’s _your_ chore.”

“Citation stands!” Gene repeated.


End file.
